What Would Have Been
by purpleb
Summary: Harry has somehow been dropped into a new time zone. In this new world, one thing was changed, and now Harry has parents! There's more in the prologue of the first chapter. This story's a bit mysterious, but you'll figure it out in the end! Please read
1. Ch 1 WHere are you?

_Prologue_

_This story takes place when the trio are 16. It is technically set in Christmas of the Half-Blood Prince, but has nothing to do with the plot of HBP (an AU)). Ron and Harry have been invited to spend Christmas break at Hermione's house. Hermione will pick them up at the train station, as she left Hogwarts as soon as Christmas break started. Harry and Ron, however, had stayed two more days at Hogwarts to seek extra help. They planned to do different things, and so they agreed to meet at the train station at 11:30, so they'd have plenty of time to eat lunch and board their train. This story begins at the Kings Cross Train Station where Ron and Harry board the train to Hermione's home town… but not quite together…_

Harry had arrived at the train station 2 hours ago and was pacing and scanning the crowds. He knew Ron would be late, but he was going to miss the train if he didn't come soon! He couldn't wait to spend Christmas with Hermione's family. She had left as soon as break started and Harry was anxious to see her. He and Ron had planned to meet at the train station at 11:30, but it was already 1:15! Hedwig screeched and Harry jumped. "I know you want to fly around, but people here aren't used to owls" Harry stroked her feathers and looked up at the sign above him. The train would arrive in 10 minutes, and there wasn't a redhead standing next to him. "Something's wrong with _this_ picture," Harry grumbled.

Ron was staring at a cart piled with strange-looking foods. He was in his own cabin, and he hadn't planned to eat, being worried about Harry and all. But yet again, hunger overpowered him. He saw something that looked like a wad of meat squeezed between two pieces of bread.

"Um……I'll take…. that." Ron decided points to hamburger

"What hun?" Asked the lady in charge of the cart

"That uh……sandwich?" Ron grabbed the hamburger and looked at it skeptically.

"That'll be 3.00" the lady said.

Ron pulled out the slips of paper his dad had explained were very valuable. He handed the lady 3 of them.

"You want ketchup with that?"

"Catch up with what?"

The lady handed him a small packet and grumbled,

"So many foreigners….and they're just so clueless!"

Harry boarded the train. People's heads popped out of cabins to get a better look at Hedwig. He heard a man whisper "Oh yes, I studied those way back in high school. The rare…uh…white…bellied…owl. Oh yes, a remarkable bird, common as pets in France." Harry felt his face turn red and quickly ducked into a cabin.

"At least they aren't talking about my scar" as he remembered his first trip to Hogwarts. He felt his forehead, and his stomach lurched. His scar wasn't there. He knew exactly what it would feel like, and where it would be, but smooth, unharmed skin covered his forehead. He was rubbing his head in awe when he heard a knock on his cabin door. He jumped, and slowly opened it. A man was standing there with a food cart, but Harry shook his head, and took out his lunch. He sighed as he unwrapped the food he had managed to steal from the Great Hall. He started to reach for his butterbeer, but then decided against it. He still felt a little weak. Harry tried to recall what had happened when he stepped through platform 9 3/4. It was as if he had ran into something hard. No, that wasn't it. More like somebody picking him up and dropping him…but he had fallen slowly. Like when Dudley watched his movies in slow motion, trying to find some mistake the director had missed. He was pretty sure he had been unconscious, because he had woken up on the floor in the train station at 11:25 with a circle of people staring at him. It was so strange- it felt as if he had been knocked out for years. While he was unconscious, he had dreamt the he was floating in space, and that below him, there were two identical train stations. They were spinning, and if he looked closely, Harry could see tiny figures moving around inside them. Then he felt himself drift into the train station on the right. Harry felt his body shiver, and decided to take a nap to help recover. He pulled out his robe, pushed it against the window, and leaned against it.

For Ron, the train ride was torture. What with having nobody to talk to, and not being allowed to do magic. He couldn't tell which bothered him most- being bored or worried.

Several times he had been tempted to pull out his wand, and drive some innocent train-rider crazy to pull his mind away from what happened to Harry. He thought of all the annoying spells he would've done. Then he realized he couldn't do half of them properly. He and Hermione would fix that over the break. He felt his body slowly rise, and then slam back down into his seat as the train went over a million tiny hills. He suddenly felt hot and he knew that his lunch wasn't happy where it was. "Oh god, lousy muggles and their hambuggers!" Ron said, as he opened his window and leaned outside.


	2. ch 2 What the?

Harry stepped off the train ready for a nice, easy going vacation. "After what happened on platform 9 3/4, I need a relaxing break!" Harry thought. He didn't see Hermione, so he stretched and walked around a little. His muscles were cramped up from sitting on the train for so long. He looked around- the train station was packed. There were people everywhere, pushing, shoving, hugging and running. He was constantly hearing "Welcome home! We missed you so much…" and "Did you sleep at all on the train?". He saw a little boy with short blond hair clinging to his mom, and later saw him sprinting towards the train as his dad walked off it. The station was gross- the floor was covered with old newspapers and tissues and the smell resembled his sock drawer. Harry couldn't wait to get out of there and into a car. "Harry! There you are!" shouted a woman's voice. He turned, expecting to see Hermione and instead saw a middle aged redhead running towards him, arms about to engulf him in a hug. She hugged him, and kissed his cheek, "Oh, my baby! We missed you so much!". A tall, skinny man waved to him, and started walking towards him. He had shaggy black hair, and glasses. Harry froze. Who were these people- were they kidnappers? Harry back away from the lady and tried to look for a place to run. He was hyperventilating. He couldn't see right, one thing blended into another. People running around him, he felt someone shove him out of the way. "Got to escape! ESCAPE!" his mind screamed. But he couldn't move his legs. They were cement, and he couldn't succumb the energy to move them. He felt weak, and was beginning to feel the air pushing against him as he fell. He felt someone catch him...

Harry woke staring into the man's face, and saw his own eyes… He had seen these people before, but only in pictures. For a second he couldn't breathe, his lungs were tightening up, and his mind was racing. No…they couldn't be his…

"Are…you my…uh…?" Harry stuttered, his heart pounding. His voice was raspy, as if he had just woken up. "Mom? Oh gosh Harry are you all right! You scared me so much, oh my goodness the third day of break and already you're losing it! We've got soup waiting for you in the car, that'll help you recover" The lady said, pulling Harry towards the exit. The man followed, and Harry stared at them, dumb founded. His parents had died 16 years ago, how can they be here, holding his hand? Yet he knew they were his parents. They looked just like the young couple he had seen in the mirror. And here she was, Lily. His _mother._ Breathing, smiling, and walking with her son. Her son…_him_. They reached the car, and his father held the door open for him. His parents climbed into the car, and started driving away, as if they did this every year. His father chatted about painting the house, and how they'd _finally_ decided on the color. "James, I've been thinking about that self-sweeping broom we just bought and…" His parents talked and talked and seemed to forget he was there. "This can't be true… I'm the boy who lived! The one who's parents sacrificed themselves for him…" Harry thought. But it all was so real. He felt inside the seat pocket in front of him, and found a paper he wrote in defense against the dark arts last year. He saw a white sock on the floor of the car that seemed to be his size…"This is my car. This is my family, and I'm going…_home_." He didn't know what the heck was going on, but he was starting to like it.

They pulled onto a deserted road and stopped. While Harry's father was out casting spells to refill the gas tank, Harry talked to his mom. "So you told us you were liking potions better this year, how's the new teacher?" His mom asked. "Uh…He's pretty nice. He...uh…seems to really like me…" He replied, not sure what to say. "That's nice sweetie." She leaned back into her chair and started to hum. Harry wasn't satisfied, he wanted to know what she was like, what books she read, what food she ate! "So uh…what have you and dad been up to?" Harry asked, wishing he could think of a better question. "Oh not much, you know…remodeling the house, yesterday we checked out that new muggle restaurant. It was quite nice- considering they didn't use any magic. It amazes me how much easier they'd all have it if they didn't have to clean or cook…you know?" She added. "Yeah." Harry replied. He'd ask them more later, as for now, that soup next to him was calling his name. Literally. "Harry, eat me!" He heard it say, and Harry laughed as he picked up the charmed bowl.

Harry wondered what Hermione and Ron were like in this world. What was different about them? Did they have new lives? Or was it just for him? Harry's own world… maybe it had everything he had wished for! It was impossible to count all the times he had wished for parents! Right now he wanted a napkin, so he muttered "I wish I had a napkin." He looked around. No napkin magically appeared. No, it wasn't a perfect world…but it was pretty close. He licked his bowl and looked out the window. That's when he realized he hadn't the slightest idea where he was. He was pretty sure he wasn't near Hermione's house, but then again, he'd never been there. He asked his parents. "We're almost home, we'll be there in about a half an hour" His dad replied. The minute his dad had finished, he knew that this would be the longest half hour of his life. In 30 minutes, Harry would be home.


	3. Chapter 3 He's back?

The car pulled into the driveway of Harry's house. It was a bit smaller than the Dursley's but Harry thought it was perfect. The mere fact that the inside held his own bed made it perfect. Two empty flowerpots stood by the door. He imagined what the house would be like in the summer, he could see roses and daises in the four empty flower beds. The house itself was white, with a portion of it brown. Next to the brown portion lay a very tired looking paintbrush. Apparantly, the charm had worn off too soon. Harry stood there soaking it all in. Trying to memorize the house he had wished for all of his life. He could see little bits of the house through the windows. One room, his favorite so far, had a table with three matching chairs. Just looking at it got him excited, because tonight, he would have his first dinner with his parents.

The inside of Harry's house was even better. The halls were decorated with so many pictures of Harry, it made it look like the _wall_ was moving, not the pictures. Dozens of pictures- family vacations, baby Harry, Harry leaving for Hogwarts, Harry in the park, Harry in the yard, Harry playing with toys…everything was thoroughly drenched in Harry. Harry wandered through the house, staring at the walls and seeing the life he had prayed for.

Whenever Harry stepped into a room, little floating globes of light turned on. The little globes would say "Welcome Harry, to the…" and would state the room he was in. This was beneficial to Harry, as he knew he couldn't ask where a room was or his parents would think he'd gone mad. He walked into the kitchen and sat down in a small, wooden chair. "Welcome Harry, to the kitchen" the little globes announced as they lit up. It was in the kitchen, that Harry found out about Voldemort.

Harry was studying the kitchen, when his eye caught the newspaper lying on the ground next to him. He picked it up, and scanned the first article.

"You know who" attack number 123

London, England: The 123rd attack has been reported. In the muggle world, the Surrain's house was found burned to the ground only two days ago, December 14th. The Surrain household consisted of Mr. George (accused of being a death-eater), Mrs. Katherine, and Miss Mia Surrain. The neighbor reported to have seen lightning hit the building causing it to combust. This lightning was planted into the muggle neighbor's mind after his memory of the attack was erased. The memory clearly showed Lord Voldemort waving his wand, and the house disappearing. The exact spell used is unknown. The Muggle Protection Force employees have gone on strike after being forced to reconstruct what a burned house would look like. MPF employee Scott Freedon explains, "The best excuse the MPF could come up with for the muggles is that it burned down. So us employees had to work all bloody night trying to make the site look realistic."

The article went on about the strike, but Harry hadn't even read past the 6th sentence. Voldemort was alive? And he had attacked 100 times? The article was so cavalier about the attack- it didn't even get more than a paragraph! The paper fell from his hands as Harry slowly got up from the chair. He was shaking. This world was good, his parent were alive. But was that worth living the rest of his life in fear of Voldemort? In fear of his own house disappearing, his family classified as missing? He had planned on staying in this world as long as he could, but now he saw this world from a whole new perspective. Every living creature has to die- but being murdered is a whole different story.

"Harry, come see your room, dear! It was such a mess when you left, we just had to fix it up for you. Hedwig's already settled in!" His mom's voice called from upstairs. Hedwig! Harry had completely forgotten about her! She had been with him the whole train ride, was she different? "Coming!" Harry shouted. He bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time. He saw his mother standing in a doorway at the end of the hallway. Globes flashed on and off as he passed them. He reached the doorway, took a deep breath, and walked in. He had posters of famous quidditch players from all different teams. The players waved to him as they caught snitches, hit bludgers, and threw quaffles. "Welcome Harry, to your room"

The room was gold with maroon stripes. "Mom and dad are apparently very proud I'm in gryffindor" Harry assumed. At least _that _was still the same- he could never have gotten used to being in Slytherin. There was an alcove in the wall, where Hedwig's cage slipped right in. She was sleeping, apparently still tired from the train ride (where she slept the whole ride). "Hedwig, isn't it beautiful?" Harry cried. The bird opened one eye, gave a coo of appreciation, and went back to sleep. Harry turned his attention back to his room. There was a little book shelf next to his wall, and Harry could see read some of the titles. _How to be a keeper in 12 days,_ _Potions for dummies,_ _How to ace the OWLS and other exams_ and Harry laughed at the last one: _Surviving Hogwarts._ Harry saw a photo album and pulled it out. As he was skimming through it he heard his mother. "We're thinking of having dinner in about an hour- that should give you time to shower, right?" Harry nodded, and buried his nose into the album. Right now he didn't want to deal with the fact that he had no idea where the shower was.

Somehow, after roaming the upstairs portion of his house for what seemed like hours, Harry managed to arrive at the dinner table squeaky clean. He saw three plates piled with food. There was pumpkin juice in Harry's glass, and there were two smaller glasses with wine for his parents. His parents had been chatting and sipping wine while they waited for Harry. "There's my boy!" his father cried, as Harry sat down. His father asked him questions about how his classes were. Harry answered them as best he could, not sure what school was like in this world. "Whose this Ron you keep referring to?" His father asked. Harry was surprised, didn't Ron exist in this world? "Oh, uh…he's just one of my friends…I uh…never told you about him?" Harry asked. "Oh don't get all worried James, I'm sure he's a nice boy" His mom stated. Harry nodded and shoved a forkful of food in his mouth, so he wouldn't have to talk. He wished he knew what to talk about- all his life he'd wished his parents were alive. Now here they were, and he was avoiding them. Harry washed his mouthful down with the pumpkin juice. "Harry, don't eat so fast- you'll get sick!" He loved how mothers mock-scolded. Everyone's mum did it- Mrs. Weasley was constantly "scolding" Ron. Harry could tell she was happy to have him back. Lily beamed at her healthy son and Harry knew she was proud of him. Harry's heart swelled with happiness, he felt something he'd rarely experienced. Harry felt loved.


	4. Ch 4 But how could?

Harry woke up that morning in a pleasant mood. It was one of those days where the sun was up and shining, but it was still freezing outside. Like the sun was desperately trying to overpower the cold. It obviously wasn't winning. Harry opened his dresser, and fished around for his sweater. He looked around for the one Ron's mom had made for him, but didn't see it. He shrugged, and threw on a large black one. He yawned, and took a whiff of the air. He could smell the eggs frying themselves in the kitchen. He ran down the stairs, and nearly ran over his father on his way to the kitchen. "Whoa there son, never knew you were such a morning person- oh wait, IT'S 12:00! Jeez, you teenagers sure can sleep…" His father chuckled, as he pulled out the paper.

"Oh how horrible!" Harry's father sighed. "What is it, dear?" His mother asked, concerned. "Oh, there's been another attack. Nobody we know, thank goodness. You don't know how lucky we are right now, Harry. You-know-who hasn't attacked us or anyone we know. You just never know…" His father trailed off and sighed again. Harry turned rigid at his father's remark. _Us or anyone we know_…but that would mean…Voldemort had never attacked his parents? Is that the reason they were alive and well? But this didn't make sense, the prophecy had said…did the prophecy exist in this world? Was the prophecy true in this world? Harry grabbed some breakfast and went back to his room. Once again, he had unearthed a new set of questions. He figured there were only two people he could trust with his story. Hermione's parents being muggle, Harry decided to call her on a payphone. Harry mumbled something to his parents and headed outside towards the bus stop.

The cold wind slapped against his face and Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. He was the only one on the sidewalk, because nobody in their right mind would be out on a day as cold as this. In his hands he held muggle coins to pay for the call. Harry wondered if he would have known how to make a phone call if he had always lived in this world. As the payphone came into view, Harry quickened his pace, eager to escape the cold. Harry opened the bright red door and stepped into the booth. The windows were coated in a thin layer of frost, and Harry was unable to see out. He hoped nobody would be able to hear him, as this would be one awkward phone call. Harry dropped the coins into the slot and pulled out a slip of paper with Hermione's phone number. Luckily, his luggage hadn't changed to fit the world, and he still had the Granger's phone number in case something had happened. Well, something had happened…

"Hello?" asked Hermione

"Oh good, I wasn't sure I had the right phone number" Harry said, relieved

"Ummm, who is this?" Hermione asked, confused

"It's Harry! Who do you think it would be, Ron can't use a telephone for his life!" Harry laughed

"Oh…um, hi Harry…" Hermione still sounded confused

"Look Hermione, something weird happened to me on that train…you were supposed to pick me up, but my parents did…you see-" Harry stopped, not sure how to start

"Harry? Um, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but uh… why would we pick you up?" Hermione asked.

"We had planned to spend Christmas with you, me and Ron…remember?" Harry urged, trying to move on

"Look, Harry, I'm sure you're nice or whatever, but why would I spend break with you and Ron? I mean, we have 2 classes together, but that still doesn't mean-" Harry cut Hermione off

"What are you talking about? We've always said we'd spend break together, but it never worked out…Remember how many meals we spent going over what day would be best?" Harry asked

"Look Harry, I don't really know what your talking about. I don't know you and I wouldn't want to spend break with you! You're just another annoying guy trying to pull one over on me and I won't fall for it! You're always so frusterating, and I always try to be polite, but I'm sick of it! GOODBYE!" Hermione was practically yelling as she slammed the phone down.

Harry stood there, limp and confused. He was still holding the phone and eventually a voice came on telling him to dial again or insert more money. He listened to the recording in Spanish, then came to his senses and hung up. He pushed open the door and started to walk back home. It was still freezing, but Harry felt worse inside. Apparantly he wasn't friends with Hermione. From what Hermione had said, this other Harry sounded like a jerk. This new world kept getting worse and worse. Harry kicked a stone and watched it bounce to the other side of the road. Harry felt like screaming, Why was he in this world? Why is this happening to HIM? Harry threw himself onto someone's lawn and pulled up a chunk of their grass. "I WANT ANSWERS!" his mind screamed. He was about to bang his fist on the grass when he saw someone's face appear at the window. Harry quickly got up, and sprinted by. He needed to pull himself together. I should not be having temper tantrums at this age, Harry thought. Then he realized that there was someone else he could ask. Two people, actually.

His parents were sipping coffee when Harry walked inside, his shoes leaving a trail of muddy snow. "Harry! For goodness sakes wipe of your shoes when you come inside" Harry's mom scolded. "Limpidiante!" She said while waving her wand, the mud slowly disappeared, and the floor seemed to sparkle. Harry wasn't sure how to approach his question, he knew the change in this world must be related to the prophecy…he found himself asking the same questions…Did the prophecy exist here? How could it, he didn't have a scar and his parents were alive… did Voldemort even attack his house? But why wouldn't he have, why would he just up and decide not to attack? "Umm…dad, did you ever…errr…hear about a um, prophecy?" Harry asked, timidly. His father put down his coffee, and looked up, his face looked angry, but troubled. "Who mentioned the prophecy to you Harry?" his father asked. Harry hesitated. "Oh god" Harry thought "Think of SOMETHING!" Who might have mentioned it? "I heard Dumbledore say something to Professor McGonagall…" Harry's mother sighed, and said "Well, all right James. I guess he should know, it might help him to know…" His father nodded, and looked straight at Harry. "This is very serious Harry, and I need to know you won't tell anyone." Harry nodded, and his father went on. "The prophecy is this:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._"

His father looked up. Harry quickly pretended to be confused. "So what does that all mean?" Harry asked, hoping his father would give him more information, so far, nothing added up to why this world… "Well, it means that there is only one person who could defeat you-know-who. This one person Harry, is you." Harry's mother reached over and stroked Harry's shoulder. Harry looked down to hide his expression, which was blank. "I know all this" Harry thought, "Tell me something more…" Luckily, his father did go on. "Somehow, Harry, you-know-who heard this, and to remain powerful Harry, he didn't…attack us." Harry's mother turned away, but he could see her tears. So that was the answer. Voldemort knew the prophecy…so he had never attacked his house, never attacked him, and stayed strong. The prophecy wasn't fulfilled. Voldemort never marked "him as his equal" and he didn't have his scar. Harry looked up at his parents, his father had put his hand over his mother's, as if to protect her. They thought that because Voldemort had heard the prophecy, Harry was spared. Harry was almost glad they didn't know the truth, that Harry hadn't been spared. They had.


	5. Ch 5 What is this?

Harry woke up the next morning feeling fully charged. The last few days had been so emotionally draining, he valued sleep so much. It was the one time when he wasn't agonizing over this strange occurrence. Each morning felt like the beginning of a very, very, sad story. Unfortunetly, Harry had no choice but to get up as usual, and make the best of it. He slipped on a robe, sighed and reached for his glasses. Putting them on, he noticed a slip of white paper that had fallen off of his desk. It was a note from his parents.

_Good morning! Your father and I went off to The Witches Kitchen to look at their new frying pan selection. I doubted you wanted to come so I didn't wake you up. Make yourself some breakfast and for goodness sake, unpack your things! _

_We'll be back around 4:00_

_Love,_

_Mum_

"Good morning, Harry. You are in the kitchen" the light said as Harry stumbled in. He'd come to realize that, as useful as the lights were when he first got here, they were starting to get on his nerves. "Good morning" he grumbled, and grabbed a piece of bread. He toasted it with his wand, and nibbled on the crust as he read the newspaper on the table. The sticker on the corner claimed it was actually for the neighbor's house. "Must've been a new owl," Harry assumed. He skimmed through a couple pages, pictures of a new breed of newts crawled around the second page. The word "Voldemort" caught his eye, and Harry looked at an article that had been continued from the first page.

(_continued from page 1) but we have made some progress" states Renold. The ministry has discovered that Voldemort is using a new system to notify the death eaters of the next attack. "We have noticed that the tattoos on our imprisoned death eaters are fading. This leads us to believe they no longer have a use. Voldemort has come up with a new system of notifying his followers, and we must start new investigations to find out what he is doing."_

The article went on about the funding for investigations, and how donations were needed. Harry was surprised. The article blatantly stated that no progress had been made, and that nobody was doing anything about it. So how could Voldemort be contacting the death eaters? The Ministry Of Magic was probably scanning all local spells, looking for ones that were suspicious… Was it possible that he wasn't using magic? This would be, of course, a huge risk. It wouldn't be nearly as reliable as magic. But yet, Harry could understand why Voldemort would avoid magic. Complicated, intricate spells were exactly what the Ministry was looking for, so why not throw them off completely? Notifying each death eater in person would hide it from the Ministry, but it wouldn't hide it from the world. With everyone worried about him, who wouldn't report a cloaked figure talking to their neighbor every Tuesday night? Contacting each death eat would not only be obvious, but would take a while too. It's possible that he was having a certain, trusted death eater notify everyone. Owls were out of the question, as many letters were now being scanned. Unfortunately, this did not leave one answer. There were hundreds of methods Voldemort could be using, and Harry had no idea which one it was. Harry crumbled up the newspaper, and tossed it at the rubbage bin. The bin shifted forward to catch the balled-up newspaper.

When Harry got up from the table, and saw a tiny white slip of paper flutter to the ground. It had fallen off of his lap as he had stood up, and Harry now leaned over to pick it up. One side was blank, and the other read _25 Crestler Avenue 66/885 99_ in black, swirly type. And that was it, no explanation whatsoever as to what this address entailed. Harry's eyes wandered to the rubbage bin, and he decided the paper must've come from the newspaper. He got up and retrieved the newspaper from the bin, and smoothed it out on the table. Pictures in the ads jumped and wiggled to get his attention, but nothing seemed to explain the note. It was only when Harry folded the paper back up, that he saw something very important. The sticker on the newspaper read "Chris Kaney," meaning the note was not meant for Harry or anybody in his house. His neighbor's paper had been delivered to the wrong house, meaning probably only Chris Kaney knew what _25 Crestler Avenue_ 66/885 99 meant.

Just then Harry's parents burst through his front door. It couldn't be four o'clock already! "Oh good, you did wake up on your own! Your father kept telling me the whole drive home how you probably would still be asleep, and how we should've had the note wake you up when it was getting late… so it turns out the witch's kitchen doesn't open til this afternoon, so your father and I picked up some groceries instead.. I-" His mother kept babbling until he had to interrupt her. "MOM! Slow down!" Harry cried out, half-laughing at his mom's easy excitability. Sure enough, little bags of oranges, milk, and tomatoes started floating in. They landed on the kitchen counter and began to unpack themselves. Harry's father soon came inside, and sat down next to Harry. "Dumbledore's codelets? I haven't seen one of these since my days at Hogwarts! Now let's see- 66, well that would be-" Harry's father exclaimed as he picked up the little piece of paper. "You know what that is?" Harry asked, confused, was the message really meant for his father? Harry's dad nodded, and explained "This is what we call a Dumbledore codelet. These were used originally by Dumbledore to notify professors when they would have a meeting, so students wouldn't know about it and play some sort of prank. Of course, eventually we figured it out, and we soon used the same idea for the little clubs we had. You see, you add up the digits of each of the numbers. The first number is the month, the second the day, and the third the time. It's usually in army time, so the code would only be in numbers- no a.m. or p.m. Usually the meeting spot was previously established with all of the club members, but I guess this would be the address….Where'd you find this, Harry?" Harry quickly snatched the paper from his dad, and blurted his first excuse. "The um, quidditch captain gave it to me…we're supposed to have a practice over break. I guess he didn't want the slytherin team finding out…" and Harry dashed upstairs into his room, paper in hand.

6+6 was 12, 8+8+5 was 2, and 9+9 was 18…..so this meant December 21, 18 o'clock. 18 o'clock in army time would actually be 6:00 p.m, and December 21 was… TODAY! Harry didn't know what this secret meeting was about, but the twist in his gut hinted it had to do with Voldemort. And Harry didn't put it past Voldemort to be cocky enough to use his enemy's secret code.


End file.
